


Earth Laughs In Flowers

by Lov_pb



Category: White Collar
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lov_pb/pseuds/Lov_pb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Join Neal and Peter as they chase a fleeing suspect into the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earth Laughs In Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to my two dear buddies, Phoenix_cry and Ellie, who joined me on a tour of the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. Sharing time with White Collar friends, while exploring NY boroughs, is always a blast. Thank you, ladies.

With heart pounding and his breath labored, Peter Burke slowed to a standstill, bending forward and placing shaky hands on both knees in a feeble attempt to catch his breath. Maybe he should listen more to his wife and cut back on those sweets and carbohydrates in his diet. His little jaunt, chasing a fleeing suspect down Washington Avenue in Brooklyn, seemed to have taken it all out of the middle-aged federal agent.

Pursuing Paulie D'onofrio seemed a no brainer at the time. Always having prided himself in keeping in top shape, he had failed to alert backup, instead shouting instructions to Neal to circle around their target as the man seemed to disappear into the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

D'onofrio, only a few years younger than Peter, had somehow out maneuvered him, giving them the slip. Hoping Neal had managed to track their quarry, Peter looked up from his hunched position, his face sweat-soaked and displaying exhaustion.

Clutching one side with left arm, Peter began to straighten up, removing his badge from an inner suitcoat pocket. He was sure the attendant at the entrance would be appearing momentarily demanding explanation or payment for circumventing the gate.

Quickly casting an observant gaze over the grounds directly in front of him, the agent noted the Botanical Garden's visitors were few and far between, probably due to the late hour of the day. Row upon row of late summer flowers swayed in the slight breeze of the day, but no stealthy criminal appeared hidden anywhere in the foliage or blossoms.

Visiting hours were soon ending. Good thing. He really didn't want to tiptoe through the tulips searching for a suspect among the tourists and garden aficionados of Brooklyn.

A vast beautiful outdoor oasis, the Garden grounds also contained a conservatory, museum, meandering paths and picnic areas for all to enjoy. In fact, Elizabeth had often enticed him to the Gardens for Sunday strolls and romantic picnics; he knew how easily it would be to seemingly disappear on the grounds.

Earlier in the day, Neal had received a tip on the whereabouts of Paulie, wanted in the questioning of numerous security fraud violations, prompting a quick trip to Prospect Park neighborhood, near a rendezvous point on Eastern Parkway. The apprehension of this non-violent offender seemed a slam dunk, until D'Onorofio inadvertently spied the two men's approach, and took off fleeing down one of the main streets of the borough.

Peter silently cursed his misfortune.

And where was Neal. They should have encountered each other by now if he had entered by Eastern Parkway access. He was starting to worry about his partner. A cold feeling of dread began to work its icy fingers up Peter's spine despite the heat of the day. Sure, their target was a wealthy, white collar investment advisor with no previous convictions, but you never knew what someone would do finding themselves trapped and cornered.

Had Neal remained vigilant about his safety or done something stupid to try to snare their prey.

Pulling out his cell phone with his left hand, Peter began slowly walking past the Cranford Rose Garden, one of the most popular attractions in the 52 acre park. The fragrant landscape, known for its ten thousand bright blossoms planted in formal beds, or climbing up trellises and cascading down bridges, contained the largest collection of roses in North America with well over a thousand cultivated types.

As the agent looked momentarily back towards the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden, its distinctive waterfall, pagoda and wooden bridges a favorite of visitors, he heard a stampede of thundering feet and glimpsed a darkening blur in his peripheral vision. The erupting cascade of sound, detail and shape abruptly overwhelmed his senses.

"Urggph…," he heard himself cry out when one… or was it two large bodily masses… struck him midsection. He felt himself cartwheeling up into what must certainly be the troposphere before reversing direction and ending up in a heap of crushed flowers and thorns.

"Peter?" A familiar voice sounded in his brain.

"Peter… Are you okay?" The voice began to fade. "No wait, hold on. I'll be back─"

Struggling to his knees, the agent shook off the ringing in his ears and spied Neal, disappearing around a corner as he rapidly pursued their fleeing suspect down one of the border paths. The two men had obviously come upon him from behind, knocking him down in their haste of either pursuing or fleeing.

It took several long minutes for Peter to regain his equilibrium. Once he attained an improved mental acuity, he realized his badge and phone were missing from his hands, probably lost amid the mangled flowers.

"Mister! You'd better get out of those rose canes," said a young, angry voice above him. "I've called the police and they're on their way."

Standing in front of the now dirty and disheveled federal agent was a young man wearing the seasonal attire of a Botanical Garden security guard. Looking no older than a high schooler, the short blond, blue-eyed "kid" peered dismissively down at Peter.

"You can't just jump the gate and demolish our displays. Disorderly and undesirable guests are ejected or apprehended." He paused for breath. "And don't even think you'll get away without paying for all this damage."

Groaning softly, the agent swore under his breath. Slowly pulling copious amounts of rose thorns off his suit pants as he rose from the ground, Peter threw a glare at the pint-sized lookout.

"Look junior. I'm a federal agent pursuing a suspect through these grounds. Did you happen to notice what direction the two men who knocked me down took? "

"My name is Brian; it's on my tag," the guard pointed out. "I don't know what two men you're talking about. I was notified you jumped the entrance gate and I found you here mutilating our prize-winning flower collection."

"Please don't arrest him," jumped a new voice into the conversation. "I'll certainly vouch for him. I don't think this man would intentionally try to destroy this beautiful display. I ah… may have accidently knocked him down."

"Neal!" exclaimed Peter. "What happened? Where's D'onofrio?"

"I'm sorry, Peter; he got away," was the answer from his reappearing partner. "Paulie slipped over the wall into the herb garden… where, by the way, an amazing herbal spirits tour of absinthe is offered, you should see it… I'll need to tell Mozzie… and vanished into a group of people exiting the grounds."

"Just dandy," replied Peter. "This adds to my perfect day." He looked down at his clothes. "My pants are ruined."

"Ovid said, 'the sharp thorn often produces delicate roses.'"

"Neal, one of my favorite suits is ruined."

"Isn't every one of your Brooks Brothers' collection your favorite?" asked Neal.

"This happens to be the suit El says goes best with my lucky tie. I should have worn that tie today and missed all this fun."

"Wait," interrupted Brian, the young security guard. "He really is in law enforcement?" he asked Neal, pointing to Peter.

Neal glanced at Peter, not even trying to hide the wide grin and nodded his head.

"Yeah, we have this under control," Neal stated, as Peter began groping around the ground. "And thanks for your help," he added, as Peter finding his badge on the ground, began to wave it vigorously in the air.

"Okay," said Brian, who hurried off in the direction of the Washington Avenue entrance. "I better call off the cops."

Peter stared silently at Neal for a long moment before he began to dust off his garments, inspecting the damaged material with sad eyes.

"Are you all right?" asked Neal softly. "I'm sorry I knocked you over. Paulie accidently veered right into your path, and we both failed to sidestep at the last moment. I'm not sure who gave you the harder nudge."

"Nudge? More like a jostle from a sumo wrestler," Peter grimaced, rubbing his elbow.

"Let me pay for a new suit. Wait. I'll even pick it out."

"No! That's not necessary; one member of the Rat Pack in the office is enough. Just remind me, in the future, not to stand anywhere in the vicinity of rose bushes when we're looking for a suspect."

Peter sighed wearily as he shook his head. "Now I get to go back to the office and tell Hughes we lost our man."

"We'll find Paulie again. He may even turn himself in after this scare today."

"Possibly," said Peter, a sly smile suddenly appearing on his lips. "If the office calls his attorney with the accusation of attacking a federal officer ─"

"He really didn't mean to do that, Peter."

"I know," Peter said, throwing Neal a good-humored glance. "I wouldn't charge him with the assault, but it would make him anxious to rectify matters and come in for questioning. Wouldn't it?"

Neal smiled back as Peter glanced at the ground.

"Hey!" Peter shouted. "Look at this."

"What?"

"This rose bush over here."

A small pink Floribunda rose, from the rosacea family, peaked out from one of the center beds close to Peter. Front and center, the small gray descriptive marker, utilizing large block letters, spelled out the rose's personal name: SATCHMO.

Peter and Neal chuckled.

"Wait until I bring El here to see this. She'll be delighted."

"What's in a name? That what we call a rose─"

"Stop! I expect to see Mozzie's face poke out among the bushes any minute. Now help me look for my cell phone among all this debris. I hope it's not damaged."

"That would be no bed of roses for you, huh Peter?"

"You couldn't wait to throw that in."

"Yup."

**Author's Note:**

> There really is a Satchmo bush in the Cranford Rose Garden.


End file.
